


Oubliette

by ms45



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 21:21:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms45/pseuds/ms45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aveline, Anders and Fenris, trapped naked in a tiny space with nowhere to go but up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oubliette

**Author's Note:**

> A long, long time ago, cypheroftyr threw out a list of Anders fics she wanted to see, including "Anders/Aveline/Fenris - It’s fic/art, anything can happen". So I thought about what would have to happen for such a threesome to occur, and it wasn't pretty. 
> 
> Thanks to cherith for her comments.

“What the shitting _fuck_ -“

Aveline’s furious hiss compounded Fenris’ feelings of vulnerability. The feeling of cold, wet, exposure. The feeling - no, the fact - that they were locked in a tiny space, with room enough for maybe two very thin people, and there was three of them.

And they were all naked. Not just unarmed, actually naked. And up to their ankles in water.

At least, the elf hoped it was water.

“How did we get here?” asked Aveline. The elf silently thanked the Maker that at least one of his fellow prisoners was practical, sane, and completely free of the taint of magic.

“Force magic, at least at first. Knock us out, then shove us in a sewer.”

And there was the hole in his loop. Hopefully not literally - but he was wedged between Aveline, one of his favourite people, and Anders.

And he was naked, and wet, and cold, and shivering, and unable to turn around without doing something intrusive to either of his fellow prisoners. He started to hyperventilate.

“Fenris?” Aveline couldn’t be seen in the darkness, but she could be felt, kind of. He tried to curl himself inward so his penis wouldn’t rub up against her. His breath made a high-pitched whistle as he tried to answer her.

“Shit! Anders, he’s panicking. Can you do anything?”  _No!_  thought Fenris,  _no magic, no, no nonononononono_ … Anders squirmed behind him, trying not to rub his dick up against the elf and failing. “No. I never got the hang of Entropy. If I did I could put him out gently… I can’t even slap him.” Fenris might have noticed a hint of regret in that last comment if he hadn’t been absorbed in a full-blown panic attack.

“Fenris! Fenris, this is Aveline. I’m taking your hand now.” She had to grope about in the near-perfect darkness to do so. “This is me. I have your hand, I’m squeezing it. Can you hear me?”

“ _Uuuuuueerrrr_.”

“Fenris. I need you to slow your breathing. Can you do that?” _Nononononononononono_.

“Fenris! Can't you just phase through the walls or something?” _Nononononononono_...

“Anders, shut it. NOW. Fenris. I want you to take a deep breath. Can you do that for me?” _Nonononononononono_... “Fenris, I'm going to count to three, and when I say 'three' I want you to breathe in and hold it.” The elf's only answer was a hollow wheeze. “One... two... three.” She and Anders both inhaled, conscious that they were only a heartbeat away from joining him in a gibbering meltdown. “And out.” _Hfffffffff_. “And again. One... two... three.” The guard and the mage both inhaled, but it was clear that Fenris had, if not joined them, at least slowed his panicked whooping. “And out. And one... two... “ 

Aveline kept this up for a few more rounds until she was fairly sure the elf had calmed down, at least enough not to choke on his own tongue. She certainly wasn't much happier about the situation – the rough-hewn bricks of the oubliette (for that surely had to be the nature of their trap) ripped at her delicate skin, and she was unused to not having her guard plate, much less being naked. Add in the coup de grace of being stuck in a tiny hole with two of the worst possible people to be stuck in a tiny hole with, and she was starting to hope that their captors would soon take them out to torture them. 

“All right. How far up do you think it is?”

Silence, if you didn't count wheezing as noise.

"Fenris. Are you ok?" Their eyes were adjusting to the darkness, not that that helped much - it just emphasised how far up the light source was. 

"No. But... I can breathe normally again." 

"Would your phasing be any use? Could it help you climb up, perhaps?"

"Do you really want me to try? It's likely I would just merge into you." 

"Could it be much worse than the situation we're in now?"

"Yes, it could."

"Anders, what about you? A grease spell? One of us could wriggle upwards - "

"Why does everyone think I have oil at my fingertips? I do not have a frigging grease spell. Anyway, we're already covered in mud."

"We have to try something! How long does it take to freeze to death?"

“I don't know. Do you think it's shorter or longer than how long it'll take to starve to death?”

“Well if you'd come up with a halfway decent idea to get us out of this hole - “

“You're the one who knows all about prisons, Guard-Captain - “

“Magic is made to serve man, _mage_ \- “

“Oh and you could do a better job, you whimpering whelp? Not so tough now, are you?”

“Maybe starving to death won't be a problem -”

Their increasingly frenzied babble was interrupted by a terrible screeching sound, a blinding flash of light, and a torrent of filthy, freezing liquid being dumped on their heads. 

After the choked retching had subsided, Anders sputtered “On the bright side, at least we know how far up it goes.”

“And what do you plan to do when you reach the top, mage? Wave your _pipi_ at them until they laugh themselves into a fit?”

Anders rubbed his _pipi_ quite deliberately against the elf this time. The helpless wail that emerged from the elf was much less gratifying than the angry response he had anticipated, though, and the goosebumps and the mix of water and oil and fuck knows what else all over his skin eliminated any sensual pleasure he might have gotten from such an act. 

In any case, Guard-Captain Vallen had taken over. “Anders. You're the only one of us with a chance to get past anything we might find up there. If we wriggle around a bit we can push you up and you can climb the walls.”

“Oh, magic's such a boon _now_ , isn't it? How do you know I won't just leave you in here?”

“Oh for fuck's sake, I'll do it - “

“I didn't say I wouldn't do it. But it's so convenient to be stuck in a drop toilet with a _mage_ \- “

“This is not the time for your diatribes! Fenris... I know this is upsetting for you but I'm going to squish up against the wall now and I need you to move with me. You'll have to let Anders boost himself up on your shoulders.”

Anders could feel the elf moving away from him, an entire inch which left little room for him to raise his arms. He tried bringing his right arm up in front of him, but it was too close and he hurt his shoulder trying. “I'm sorry. I'm going to have to wriggle around you.” He stretched out as if to embrace his fellow prisoners, skin tearing on the brickworks, but he was able to raise his arms above his head. “I need to bend my knees. Help me - “ He brought his leg up, or tried to, in the hope up pushing himself up from the opposite wall. His fingertips clutched at the brickworks, but they were just rough enough to cause pain, and not enough to give purchase to any grip. “Fenris, I need you to push me up. I don't like this any better than you do, but we can beat the tar out of each other later. Right now I need you to grab my, er, my waist and lift me.” He heard an exasperated hiss from the elf, but then some scraping as the elf moved against him and hands pushing under his arse, which of course was what he had meant in the first place. He muttered “thanks” and tried to push himself up, using the walls as props, wishing he had any mana available but not really sure what he'd do if he did. He wasn't even sure what he was trying to do now. 

He managed to get far up enough to rub his crotch in Fenris' ear (again eliciting a frightened _aiieeuu_! rather than the bite Anders fully expected) before the slimy bricks defeated him and he abruptly slid back into place, kicking one or both of his cellmates and losing the top layer of skin on his back. After a well-earned bout of swearing in Anders, Fereldan and Arcanum, he explained “There's nothing to grip, and it's wet. It makes sense – no point in leaving convenient toeholds for your most dangerous prisoners.” 

The “most dangerous prisoners” considered this for a minute or two. “What happened to Hawke? Could we expect a rescue party?” suggested Aveline, her tone not expecting a “yes”. 

“Even if we could, how long should we wait? Until we faint from hunger? Or die of infection?” Fenris had got his voice back, perhaps bolstered by Anders' failure. 

“Thank you for volunteering, Ser Elf. Clearly it's your turn to try waving your pee-pee at the enemy.”

“Shut up, Anders. Fenris, Anders was able to get up to our shoulders. If we can push you up that far, can you phase without hurting us?” 

Silence. Anders bit down on a number of terribly clever insults while Fenris collected his thoughts. After what seemed like an eternity, he felt the elf shuffle a bit and order “Push me.”

Being in the middle should have meant that the others were more easily able to boost him, but the close proximity and the fact that they were covered in filthy cooking grease conspired to disappoint them. Fenris put his hands on Aveline's shoulders and Anders grasped him around the waist, or tried to. When all that happened was a bit of distressing slippage, they tried putting Aveline's and Anders' hands under Fenris' thighs, with some small success, and from there he was able to push himself to the same position Anders had reached, with the added bonus of shoving his genitals in Aveline's hair and his arse in the mage's face. 

“Take my feet. I need to be out of your way before I phase.” 

The others, now with somewhat freer movement (and an overwhelming desire not to have their heads stuck in the elf's crotch) grabbed his feet and pushed mightily, even weakened as they were by untold hours of hunger and exposure. 

Cursing the slimy walls, Fenris slipped badly a couple of times before he was able to suspend himself by pushing against the bricks, grazes on his skin to match those of the mage. Shivering with both cold and the strain to stay in position, he gritted his teeth and phased. 

He knew it was not going to be like phasing into flesh – unpleasant as that sensation was, it was far more uncomfortable for the recipient than for Fenris himself. But phasing into bricks – solid bluestone – felt exactly like having your fingers stuck between large blocks of solid bluestone. He screamed, but he managed not to fall down as he solidified. 

Phasing affected his whole body, so he was going to have to somehow leap up and solidify to avoid simply sliding down the walls. He stared up at the dim light ahead, trying to work out how far he had to go. Then, shaking his head, he chided himself for being soft. There was a time when agony had been a constant companion, broken only when a mage needed his compliance. Then, his only way of coping was to keep his head down and press on. And that was the way it was going to be now. 

He pushed himself upwards, favouring one side, knowing he would drag down a little bit (please maker, only a little bit) when he phased. His knuckles and toes were already numb – how much worse could it be? He found out when he gave a little leap, his markings flashing and dulling in a second, as his limbs scraped down through the bricks. _Vashedan fassta vass fucking fuck!_ But he seemed to be a little bit ahead, so he steeled himself and repeated the process on the other side. _Fuuuuuckkkk!_

And again. And again. And again. Unbelievably, Fenris found the repetitive movements gave him time to think about previous agonies, punishments for some real or imagined slight or just a Magister's desire for cheap laughs. He couldn't cry – a side effect of the lyrium, he'd often thought – but his breath came in sharp, high-pitched gulps and his face, if anyone could have seen it, was contorted, his classically handsome features made hideous by pain. He tried saying “Aveline?”, but he got no response, and he wasn't sure if he actually said it or just whispered it. 

And again. And again. And again. 

He had no idea how long it was taking. He couldn't tell if the light source was getting bigger or not. His fingers and toes were simultaneously burning and freezing, his thighs were aching, and he'd had a couple of bad scrapes when he'd failed to solidify quickly enough. He needed to piss so badly, and as it was he found himself leaking every few inches, wanting to die from the humiliation. He was in far too much pain to point out to himself that his urine was probably the least offensive liquid hitting either of his companions right now. 

“I can't... I can't...” Now his arms were burning from carrying his weight for so long, his legs quivering perilously. Don't look up. Don't look up. Don't look up. 

He could have sworn he could feel tears on his face when he hit his head, and was then so surprised that he fell back down the hole, almost his full height. Humourless giggles bubbled up from him as he considered the irony of actually failing now that he'd reached his goal. But he braced himself, pushed through the pain as he had done so many times before, and hauled himself up towards the lid or whatever the void that thing was. 

The folly of his efforts hit him as he realised that he had no idea what he'd do if he was surrounded by jailors – wave his _pipi_ at them, perhaps – but he was easily able to slide the lid away in comparison to the agony of the previous (hour? half hour? ten minutes?) and haul himself out without interruption. He heard shouts from below, but his body collapsed as soon as he was free.

  
  


  
  



End file.
